"Yes; he is probably worth a quarter of a million dollars. It is money which should have gone to your father." "Then the wicked are sometimes prospered in this world?" "Yes, but this world is not all." "Has there been any communication with my cousin in all these years?" "Yes; two years ago I wrote to him." "What did you write?" "You must forgive me, Ernest, but I saw you growing up without education, and I felt that you should have advantages which I could not give you. I wrote to your cousin, asking if he would pay your expenses in a preparatory school and afterwards at college." "What did he reply?" "Go to the trunk. You will find his letter there. It is in the tray, and addressed to me." Ernest found it readily. "May I read it?" he asked. "Yes, I wish you to do so." It ran thus: Peter Brant--Sir: I have received your letter making an appeal to me in behalf of Ernest Ray, the son of my cousin. You wish me to educate him. I must decline to do so. His father very much incensed my revered uncle, and it is not right that any of his money should go to him or his heirs. The son must reap the reward of the father's disobedience. So far as I am personally concerned, I should not object to doing something for the boy, but I am sure that my dead uncle would not approve it. Besides, I have myself a son to whom I propose to leave the estate intact. It is my advice that you bring up the boy Ernest to some humble employment, perhaps have him taught some trade by which he can earn an honest living. It is not at all necessary that he should receive a college education. You are living at the West. That is well. He is favorably situated for a poor boy, and will have little difficulty in earning a livelihood. I don't care to have him associate with my boy Clarence. They are cousins, it is true, but their lots in life will be very different. I do not care to communicate with you again. Stephen Ray. Ernest read this letter with flushed cheeks. "I hate that man!" he said hotly, "even if he is a relative. Peter, I am sorry you ever applied to him in my behalf." "I would not, Ernest, if I had understood what manner of man he was." "I may meet him some time," said Ernest thoughtfully. "Would you claim relationship?" "Never!" declared Ernest emphatically. "It was he, you say, who prejudiced my grandfather against my poor father." "Yes." "In order to secure the estate himself?" "Undoubtedly that was his object." "Nothing could be meaner. I would rather live poor all my life than get property by such means." "If you have no more questions to ask, Ernest, I will try to sleep. I feel drowsy." "Do so, Uncle Peter." The old man closed his eyes, and soon all was silent. Ernest himself lay down on a small bed. When he awoke, hours afterward, he lit a candle and went to Peter's bedside.